Jumping At Shadows
by BizarreSerenity
Summary: In which Amon is a changed man, whether he likes it or not. Amorra, AmonxKorra.


He had been watching her for months.

None of his followers had dared to question the night transports that he ordered, some at seemingly random times, but, always, at two thirty in the morning at least every other day.

Air Temple Island was not as well guarded as it should have been, seeing as it hosted both the last Air Bending Family and the young Avatar. The patrols of guards were easy to time and avoid, and Amon quickly learned the habits and routines of the sentries placed about the Island.

Once the guards were behind him, the rest was far too easy.

The Acolytes did not lock the windows, nor did they lock the doors. Air Temple Island was a sacred place, protected by Monks and Warriors alike. Not even the very sludge of the criminal underbelly would dare to violate it. No one had ever tried, or even thought of breaking in.

No one, that is, but Amon.

He held tight to the wire as he was dropped, down, down, down through the sky, his feet pressed heavily to the circular platform as air rushed around him in torrents.

The drop was the hardest part, landing the second.

His feet hit grass slick with snow and he caught his balance, dropping into a crouch as the platform snapped back up, the airship hidden in the thick clouds.

The silence of the place, now filled with the sleeping occupants, was full of undisturbed Serenity. He was a shadow, silent and fleeting, his foot falls almost lighter than air. He made no unnecessary noise, drew no attention to himself as he crept silently around the temple. He tucked himself into a shadowed corner, waiting, waiting patiently for the guard change that he knew would occur in mere minutes.

He stiffened on instinct at the approaching muffled voices, at the sound of heavy boots crushing the frost encrusted grass.

He moved quickly from his corner, rounding the length of the building as the guards stationed changed shifts, moving from their posts to their quarters and back again. He was a passing shadow to them, nothing, soundless, not a threat.

The guards on the island were laughable.

None of his followers would have ever been so off guard and lax, even if stationed at such a sacred, untouchable place.

Not even the Avatar locked her window, a small, rounded one big enough for him to boost up and slink in, making the lightest of sounds as his own boots scraped against the stone as he propelled himself up and into the room, landing quietly on the polished wooden floor.

It was the second month he had been able to enter her room.

Before, her Polarbeardog had slept beside her bed, curled up tightly with its head atop its paws, guarding her.

But now it slept in the children's rooms, guarding the young Airbenders, and with that change, Amon changed with it.

He had not dared to enter her room before, only to sit outside her window, and listen.

As soon as the threat of her Polarbeardog waking was gone, he had gone in on a whim, and, ever since, had done so when he knew she slept.

Her sleeping habits were poor. Like the rest of the Acolytes she rose shortly after dawn, but slept at the same time every night, a little after two in the morning. She would sit in her room until she heard nothing from the other rooms, rose, then wandered the temple, avoiding guards much like he did, until she was free to sit on the cliffs that jutted out to a view of the Bay and the statue of her predecessor.

The Avatar would sit silently on those cliffs, never making a sound.

He watched her, hidden in the trees behind her, until she returned to the temple.

But tonight, her routine had changed.

It was midnight, and the girl was in bed already, her back facing the wall as she slept. Her sheets were pushed back to her knees as she slept on her side, arms folded up to rest on the pillow before her face.

She had not bothered to change for sleep, into the blue, tunic like shift that she usually wore for rest. No, she still wore her usual Water Tribe assemble, but this time, something was different.

Bruises in mottled shades of purple and blue were like patches of night on her skin, a particularly painful one in vivid black on one shoulder. Moonlight streamed into the room from the open window, casting a silver like glow on them both.

He watched her from the corner, fully shrouded in shadow, and watched as shreds of moonlight danced on her bruised skin.

He wondered then why he watched her sleep.

It was not his usual practice to haunt his enemies, to sneak within their rooms at their only time of rest and simply observe, but then again, the Avatar was not just his enemy.

There was something different about this girl, something utterly unexpected.

He had not foreseen her, had not guessed at her temperament or her will. At first, he had been merely disappointed at her flaring temple and seemingly lack of skill.

It was only after their second or third encounter that he discovered that she had been holding back.

That she had been observing him, taking notice of him, almost learning from him before thwarting plan after plan, executing raid after raid.

He still had the upper hand, but she had done something he had not expected her to do:

This Avatar had surprised him.

She was nothing like her docile predecessor. She was made of fire and passion, anger and fierce determination. She fought until her body could take pain and injury no longer, and even then, when she fell onto her knees, she had a strike left, a sharp retort, last words.

He had not expected to be so drawn to a woman of her stature.

Had not expected to be stirred by the woman who aimed to be his undoing, his end.

And, yet, he was.

There, in her room, watching her rest.

Amon could not deny that she was beautiful. But he did not let himself admire the brilliant sapphire hue that was her eyes, her smooth dark skin, or her glossy locks of brown hair that she left unbound at night to tumble down her shoulders in wild waves, nor the teasing curves of her body, or her plump lips.

Yet, tonight, things were changing.

Why?

He knew the answer.

He had underestimated her yet again.

He thought her beaten the night before, thought her utterly exhausted when he found her in Councilman Tarrlok's run down cabin in the mountains, locked in her metal prison. He thought her cornered and defeated when he ordered his Lieutenant to electrocute the box.

He did not expect her to defeat all of his Chi-blockers, and escape with her multiple injuries.

But she had.

The bruises from that night had finally bloomed, angry marks upon her skin.

His breath caught as anger rushed through him in a jolt, rather like harsh lightning.

He took a step forward.

And another.

Then another.

And found himself closer to his sleeping enemy than he had ever dared before.

He was saving her for last, Amon reminded himself. She was a vital part of his plan for Equality. He could not let her go down fighting, could not let her become a Martyr for her cause, and ignite even greater forces against him.

And, yet, the temptation to end her then and there was so great that he nearly shuddered from the desire to cleanse this beautiful woman, this beautiful, infuriating, unexpected Avatar that he continued to underestimate again, again, and again.

A sobbing, sorrow filled breath cut through the air, sharp, like the edge of a blade, and Amon froze, looking down at his sleeping enemy.

And found himself surprised yet again.

_The Avatar was crying._

Tears threaded with moonlight rolled down her cheeks, even behind closed eyes. Her hands clutched her pillow tightly, knuckles whitening, and Amon watched in shock as she sobbed quietly, still dreaming, still deep in her exhaustion triggered slumber.

_Remorse._

He hadn't known she was capable of it. But there it was, clear on her face, in the furrowing of her brow and the tears collecting on her pillow.

He hadn't known.

Amon might have never known, if not for this compelling urge to watch her, to shadow her.

Something deep within him twisted painfully, regretfully.

His movements were instinctive as he knelt before the sleeping Avatar, running on the pure, faded memories of his childhood.

He could not remember the last time he had comforted someone, even offered a few words in empathy or given a tender, understanding touch.

He placed a hand on her hip, using the other to pull up his mask.

She was warm beneath his palm even through her layers.

He knew that at any moment she could wake, and his identity would be known to her.

His _scars_ would be known to her.

A face that no other had ever seen before.

Yet he did not move.

He pressed his lips against hers, softly, a gossamer kiss that although soft was nowhere near chaste. Her tears were hot on his lips, and he felt a dizzying rush of desire settle heavily onto his heart, pulsing, writhing.

Her sobbing quieted and he drew back, his hand still heavy on her perfectly curved hip, reluctant to move.

Amon knew that if he did not leave then he would compromise everything. Everything he had ever known, everything he had ever believed in and planned and worked through skin and bone for.

He rose, swiftly and jarringly, his moments graceless as he backed away into his corner, his palm still warm from touching her.

His boots scraped against the stone wall and she stirred, eyes opening, flinching at the noise.

She rose, sheets hanging off of the bed, her eyes flickering about the room, hands finding the tears still wet on her cheeks in shame.

Amon stood perfectly still, cast in the darkness of the room.

He did not breathe.

Avatar Korra blinked once, twice, eyelashes like wet ink as a few final tears fell, falling into her out stretched hand.

"Jumping at shadows." She murmured, laying back down to roll over and curl up with her back to him. "I'm just jumping at shadows again."

He was still, so still, like the statue of her predecessor standing guard in the Bay, the statue he watched her stare at for hours on end.

"There's no way he could be here." Came her shuddering whisper. "I'm just jumping at shadows."

Amon left her room the moment her breath settled back into the easy rhythm of sleep, leaving with emotions that would be only a burden to him, and her both.

He would not come back.

He knew he could not take another one of her surprises, could not let himself be changed again by her hidden secrets.

Avatar Korra would always jump at the shadows.

And Amon would be one of them no longer.


End file.
